


One Shot: Dancing Days

by brownskinsugarplum76



Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, British, Clubbing, Dancing, Disco, Drinking, F/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, Rock Stars, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownskinsugarplum76/pseuds/brownskinsugarplum76
Summary: "You" have a dance and a bathroom interlude with Robert.





	One Shot: Dancing Days

Imagine that you’re on the dance floor with your friends, drink in hand, swaying to the beat in the small amount of space you have in the crowded club. While laughing at something one friend said, a hand caresses your back, coming to rest there. The owner of the hand nestles in closer, leans down and, mere inches from your ear, asks, “Care to dance, love?”

Your friends are bewitched by the mystery man, the expressions on their faces ranging from stunned silence to pure lust. You are inexplicably affected as well–the melodic British voice, hot on your ear, has set off an explosion of pleasurable goosebumps down that side of your body.

Curious, you swivel your head toward the source of the voice, the voice that has uttered the four simple words that have caused a dramatic shift in mood for you and your friends.

You see that it’s him, Robert. You and your friends had been checking him out earlier, just as many other groups of party-goers and individuals had been, with varying degrees of obviousness. You are surprised and excited to see him at your side now.

He smiles and you sense the hungry wolf and the friendly sheep in his countenance and in his seemingly harmless request, knowing immediately that another, higher stakes proposal for the night has simultaneously been posed without another utterance.

You smile back in a way that even penetrates your eyes, which have become a little glassy after your third drink of the evening. “I’d love to” tumbles from your lips, emphatically answering both questions laid out in front of you, voiced and unvoiced.

You swallow the last of your drink, hand the glass to one of your friends, and accept his large hand and his lead deeper into the throng of bodies in motion on the dance floor.

He turns to face you, mentioning that he had been watching you throughout the night, savoring your carefree laughter with your friends, and your sensual movements while lost in the music alone, enjoying it for your own sake. You grow warm with the shock of being watched so closely by him, and the pride of putting on what was, apparently, an enticing show.

The pulsating nightclub lights ricochet off his cream-colored, shrunken blazer and his short beaded necklace, but are absorbed by the darkness of his summer-bronzed expanse of chest. The insistent, four-on-the- floor disco groove infects your ears and bodies, and the two of you are compelled to connect. But there is no fancy footwork, just strategically placed hands, your magnetized pelvises, and an infinite loop of hip-rolling that persists through the duration of the song, and the next, and the next.

You are flushed and coursing with the dangerous, electric energy of extreme need that has built up during your dance. His hair becomes damp, his chest glistens, and his second-skin jeans seem to have become uncomfortably tight in one crucial area. His demeanor changes from one of infectious charm to unvarnished desire, similar to yours.

He stops his undulations and places his hands gently on your shoulders. The unreliable light source of the club can’t hide the intensity of his gaze into your eyes. He kisses you with steamy ardor, his hands slowly riding up to the place where your shoulders meet your neck, then winding their way up your neck to the back of your head and into your hair.

Your hands loosen the grip they have on his hips and make a similar journey upwards, from his ass to his tapered back and ultimately into the dense forest of golden curls on his head.

The kiss, the twining of your tongues, and the tastes of the drinks you consumed tonight - - screwdrivers for you, and beers for him - - ratchets your mutual desire past the point of no return.

With another soul-scorching gaze, he whispers a suggestion for your next act together, one to which you nod your assent and offer another kiss. He leads you off the dance floor to the hall and one of the bathrooms, which is blessedly empty. He guides you inside and locks the door.

The magnetic pull of your bodies resumes, as does the barrage of urgent kisses and gropes of your hands. The sounds of your romantic reveling fill the air.

Though the sensations are gloriously satisfying, they are not anywhere near enough for either of you. He lifts you to sit on the edge of the counter, next to the sink, while his hands creep up your thighs, raising your black miniskirt and then lowering and removing your black lace panties.

Feeling the saturation of your underwear, he correctly guesses that you are equally soaked with desire inside, briefly fingering you before unzipping his pants and exonerating his tightly imprisoned, swollen cock, rewarding its patience with your inner wetness and warmth.

Grasping your thighs, he firmly advances and retreats inside of you, slamming into your core with exquisite command that is met with your equally precise thrusts.

You are soaring with satisfaction from your precarious perch half on, half off the marble counter, suspended securely by his needy grasp of your body. He is also in ecstasy as he quenches his lust within you. The two of you continue on with your brisk motions, losing track of time and space in pursuit of the apex of your pleasure.

The end comes for both of you, with stars and spasms, wails and unstoppable waves of energy. You are thankful that he has lifted you from the counter, because you question the stability of your legs after your frenzied tryst. You wrap your legs around his body, sinking into his embrace as you wait for your vital signs to return to normal. But the double-time beat of his heart, so close to yours, does not coax yours to slow down, not yet.

Surprisingly, another kiss does the trick, this one languid, soothing. By the time it ends, both of you are more composed, and your legs are ready when he gently lowers you to the ground.

One of his arms meanders around your waist, to pull you close, while the other finds a home in your hair again. He murmurs an invitation back to his hotel room while he nuzzles against you. You give your yes to this third act and boldly toss your discarded underwear in the trash.

He grins broadly, excited that the passionate energy exchange is to continue. He guides you out of the bathroom, both of you brazenly leaving at the same time, fully satisfied co-conspirators with smiles as bright as the sweeping strobe lights that greet your eyes.


End file.
